The Genie

I was polishing an old oil lamp when I heard a distinct hiccup.

I waggled my ears to see if they were playing tricks.

I pinched both my ear, but they did not echo or ring out.

I renewed polishing the oil lamp and heard the hiccup again.

I peered in but could see nothing, then I was amazed to find smoke coming out of the spout.

Could the oil lamp have caught fire from a short-circuit? I wondered and sucked on my thumb for a while.

After a couple of minutes were up I noticed that the smoke was getting denser.

I wondered if I could borrow my neighbour’s fire extinguisher, but I knew he would not part with it because he doused his cigars with them.

I thought of sand, but the hourglass did not contain much.

I hastily took the oil lamp to the bathroom and held it under the tap.

An umbrella shot up from the oil lamp.

“Darn! It’s raining again,” a shrill voice exclaimed from inside.

The smoke was now taking shape and I could distinctly see a potbelly.

A hairy chest materialized next.

Then a turban with two round eyes above a bulging double chin.

“Are you a dancing girl?”I asked goggle-eyed.

“No, I am a genie,” he said.

“Were you smoking inside?” I asked curiously.

“No,” he replied, “it’s a no smoking zone.”

“I almost thought of calling the fire brigade,” I cried.

“Let me put the umbrella away,” he said and threw it out of the window.

“Ouch!” exclaimed my neighbour who was eavesdropping outside.

“Let me deal with him,” said the genie.

He craned his fat neck out of the window and began making faces at him.

“Mummy!” he shrieked as his hair stood up obligingly.

“No, I’m a genie,” the chap said conversationally.

“I’m going, going, gone!” my neighbour squawked and fled.

“My stock of chocolates, false teeth and underwear are safe,” I said relieved, “He envies my hoard.”

 “Don’t worry about him, just tell me what you wish for,” he said removing his turban and scratching his head.

“Chocolates and false teeth, an earplug or two and some underwear,” I replied noticing that he was bald.

“Your cupboards are now full to the bursting with chocolates, false teeth, earplugs, and underwear,” the genie said genially.

“Where did they come from?” I asked in wonder.

“From the supermarket, they close late,” the genie said, “Are you hard of hearing?”

“No,” I replied truthfully.

“Then I would have got you a speaking trumpet,” he replied.

 “A trumpet would have sufficed,” I said.

“You want one, or shall I get you a trombone?” asked the genie.

“They don’t have speaking trumpets these days, they have hearing aids,” I told him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted a hearing aid? the genie asked.

 “I’m not hard of hearing,” I said.

“Else I might have got you a trumpet,” the genie replied not hearing me.

“Not a bad idea, I can play into my neighbour’s ear and it is just possible that that he might turn deaf,” I said hopefully.

“Done,” said the genie clapping his fat hands, “Your neighbour is now partly deaf.”

The doorbell rang immediately.

I found my neighbour standing outside.

“I want some sugar,” he said.

“I don’t have any sugar, the ants pilfered it,” I said as I noticed the genie oozing back into the lamp.

“Just a kilo or two will do, thank you, the neighbour said.

“Go ask the ants,” I said gloatingly.

“I don’t have sugar in my pants,” the neighbour said.

“You could have ants in your pants,” I said.

“Panties? I don’t cross dress,” he replied angrily.

“I don’t have sugar,” I said, “but I know I have blood sugar.”

“That will be fine,” he said,” I will return it next week.”

“You can stick an insulin syringe in your bottom,” I said heatedly.

“No I don’t want a stick, just some sugar,” he replied.

“I can give you some stinging nettles with the panties,” I said.

“You didn’t call me stingy did you?”

I nodded my head.

“Only because I wouldn’t water your front lawn twice daily?” he asked in surprise.

I nodded again.

The genie reappeared briefly, clapped his fingers to his ears and disappeared into the lamp.

“Ow, why can’t I hear at all you now?” he asked.

“Because you have been struck dumb,” I replied.

“I don’t own a dumb bell,” he said scratching his ears.

“Then you can use a diving bell,” I said sarcastically.

“I can’t hear the bell!” my neighbour replied.

“Can’t you hear ringing noises in your head?” I asked.

The oil lamp began smoking ominously.

“That lamp’s on fire!” my neighbour exclaimed, “didn’t you pay your electric bill?”

The lamp smoked some more.

“Call the fire brigade, police and an ambulance,” he shouted hoarsely.

“Get the first-aid box,” I said.

The genie leaped out of the lamp and was back in a trice with the first aid box.

“I got it just as the store was about to close,” he said panting.

“Now fill it with sugar,” I commanded the genie as my neighbour stood gaping.

“Pour it into his left ear,” I said pointing to my neighbour.

“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten my little ear,” my neighbour said earnestly.

.“Then stick a mistletoe up his backside,” I told the genie affably.

“Your wish is my command,” the genie bowed low and did as directed.

“What did you put up my backside, are they prickly pears or a banana?” my neighbour asked not daring to look.

“My electric bill,” I told him.

“I’ll get electrocuted,” my neighbour gasped, “and I haven’t made my will yet.”

“Shall I feed him sugar through his left ear?” asked the genie looking at me expectantly.

“Just a kilo or two as he wanted,” I said.

“Actually I got a sackful at the supermarket as they were giving a hefty discount,” the genie said with a grin.

“Then pour all into his alimentary canal,” I told him.

“What about the small intestine?” he asked.

“Stuff it up with sugar then do the same to the large intestine,” I said.

“Come here,” barked the genie to my neighbour.

“Why?” he moaned fearfully.

“You didn’t have lunch, I suppose?” I inquired.

 “No,” he replied.

“Then stick in an additional kilo into all his canals, especially the ones that resemble those in Venice,”I said happily.

“Could you call an ambulance, please?” my neighbour pleaded.

“Shall I get a hearse?” the genie asked, “It will save you the trouble with hospital bills.”

“I’m not going anywhere in a hearse,” my neighbour said, “I demand an ambulance with three beautiful nurses who will take me around the city for hours till I tell them my home address.”

“Macbeth’s three witches are unemployed at present,” the genie whispered to me, “There are Hecate and her two sisters, they are waiting on the front porch.”

“Why don’t you ask them in?” I asked the genie.

He soon ushered in three beautiful, curvy, young women.

I gaped at them.

“They underwent reconstruction surgery,” the genie said.

“Reconstruction?” I asked surprised.

“First they were deconstructed by Macbeth, then reconstructed by Lady Macbeth,” the genie informed.

“They were good in plastic surgery, I see,” I said awed.

“Are those my nurses?” asked my neighbour delighted.

“They are going to reconstruct your insides to ensure that you don’t turn diabetic,” I said.

“ I always wanted plastic surgery,” my neighbour said clapping his hands.

“They will do that on your bottom to ensure that it looks like a pumpkin, the genie said.

“Will I be able to continue smoking cigars?” my neighbour asked.

“Do you smoke them with your bottom?” I asked aghast.

“Saves the environment,” said Hecate.

“Go green,” her sister told my neighbour.

My neighbour turned a bright purple.

“You used the wrong spell,” said the other sister.

“Let me try,” said the genie and turned him yellow.

“You should always use spell check,” advised Hecate to the genie.

“Let’s try a kilo of sugar in his alimentary canal,” I suggested cheerfully.

“Shall I pour it into his left ear?” asked the genie.

“If it doesn’t have wax in it,” Hecate’s sister warned.

“You wax your ear?” I asked my neighbour.

“When I’m not waxing my little toe,” my neighbour replied.

“You do it yourself?” I asked interestedly.

“No his maid does it for him,” Hecate’s sister replied.

“They must be maid for each other,” the genie chuckled.

“Why don’ we get her to pour the sugar?” I asked enthusiastically.

“She is unavailable, she has gone to pour oil on the troubled waters,” Hecate said.

“Then let’s give your neighbour his ambulance tour,” said Hecate’s sister pouting daintily.

“But first you must show a leg,” Hecate’s second sister said.

“I’m getting ready with the splints and the crutch,” the genie chuckled.

“Whatever for?” asked my neighbour alarmed.

“You must have a broken leg to ride in an ambulance,” I said.

“Mummy!” shrieked my neighbour.

“No, I’m a genie,” said the genie.

“Big boys don’t cry,” I said soothingly.

“Shall I give him a handkerchief?” asked the genie hopefully.

“Let me out of here,” my neighbour shrieked.

“You mustn't wake up the neighbourhood,” I admonished.

“I promise not to be a sugar baby, water baby, babes in the wood or a nymph surprised while having a facial,” he howled and fled as the genie uttered a sigh and slid back into the lamp.